


It's Enough

by Kestrealbird



Series: DC Verse [4]
Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Barry is in charge here, Bottom Bitch Bruce, Bruce and Selina are polyam if it isn't obvious, Bruce has feelings oops, Genderfluid! Barry, Hand Jobs, Lack Of A Gag Reflex, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 08:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Bruce tries very hard not to think about what that closeness has done to him - about how easy it was for Barry to crowd him into his own room, pushing him down on the bed and distracting him with nipping kisses across his neck and skillful hands.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle (background)
Series: DC Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1382332
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	It's Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy sup if you're here from my tumblr (teatitty, check it out if you want *fingerguns*) then you already /i/know/i/ what the fuck this is. If not, the tags should clue you in. I'm very tired. It is *checks time* nearly 12:30 am. I have no idea how good this is but I finished it and that's what matters lmao

Bruce isn't entirely sure what to think of his... _ current _ predicament. He's still reeling from Barry's earlier confession, whispered hotly into his ear, about how much they wanted to - he shakes his head of the thought, too embarrassed to remember such a crude statement.

(Draped over his shoulders, they had whispered, “I  _ really  _ want to have my way with you,” and Bruce had had nothing to say to that - mostly because he was too caught up in kissing Barry at the time, and then he was fumbling with his bedroom door and. Well).

Barry's breath against his skin, below the ear, leaves Bruce gasping, one hand clenching the sheets, and the other digging blunt nails into Barry's thigh. How Barry came to learn of such a weakness is beyond him, not that he has any present complaints about it. 

He stares up at the ceiling, trying to control his breathing, his voice, all while ignoring how handsome Barry looks, straddling his lap, eyelids painted a dark and glitzy blue. He shouldn’t have brought Barry to this gala, he thinks dizzily, momentarily mourning the loss of his shirt, ruined where Barry had torn it from his shoulders and tossed it carelessly to the floor. 

Alfred won’t be happy about that, probably, because it had been a gift from Kate and he was always so  _ particular  _ about treating such gifts with care.

A sharp bite on his ear has Bruce suck in a harsh breath, stuttering out a whimper when Barry pulls it with their teeth, laughing at the dark flush on Bruce’s face and shoulders.

"Such a handsome Bat, aren't you?" Barry croons, eyes raking over Bruce's bare chest, glossy lips pulled back into a toothy smile. "Selina was right," they say, "you  _ are _ obedient in bed."

Selina was the one who'd suggested he invite Barry to begin with, as she was unable to attend herself. But when had  _ she  _ spoken to Barry? It had to have been before the gala itself, because Barry had been glued to Bruce's side throughout the event, leaving no room for contact with Selina. 

(Was it over the phone? Face-to-face? It’s hard to think straight, when Barry’s hands are running up his chest, cupping his pecs and  _ squeezing _ ).

Bruce tries very hard not to think about what that closeness has done to him - about how easy it was for Barry to crowd him into his own room, pushing him down on the bed and distracting him with nipping kisses across his neck and skillful hands. 

"When - when did you -?"

"Oh Brucie," they say with fondness, "you know we don't kiss and tell here."

Using his own words against him? A cruel, yet clever trick. 

Bruce laughs - a little rough, tapering off into another moan as Barry's nails trace his collarbones, as if tempted to leave indents in his skin. Bruce doesn’t know how to ask for it; asking for things is so much easier with Selina, who knows just what he likes, all the time. Barry is a new experience - clearly content with keeping things slow and teasing. 

He’s in half a mind to ask for something faster -  _ rougher  _ \- and half a mind to just let Barry do whatever they want, lest this be his only chance to have Barry to himself like this at all.

But then, who can blame him, when Barry has legs that stretch for days, and thighs that could probably crush watermelon’s. 

Bruce has amazing oral skills - thank you, Selina, for your tutelage - and he would really like it if he could put them to use on Barry. Preferably tonight. But he’s just - so comfortable, like this, on his back, fists in his sheets, hips  _ trying  _ to get friction - which is a  _ hopeless  _ endeavour, given how  _ fast  _ Barry can  _ move, _ leaving him with his ass off the bed like an idiot.

He keeps trying anyway, letting out frustrated sounds at each failure, growing more impatient by the second. Which is, apparently, exactly what Barry wanted, because the next time Bruce lifts his hips, Barry moves  _ down  _ instead of  _ up, _ meeting him with a slow rock that draws a moan from them both, their nails scratching down Bruce’s chest with purpose, forcing an almost shout from Bruce’s throat, arms lifting up to grasp helplessly at Barry’s shoulders. 

The bruising he leaves behind fades within a few seconds, but the indents of his nails stay longer - lingering, almost, as if Barry is trying to preserve their impact.

“If you want something,” Barry says, “then ask.” Their tone is teasing, yet the edge at the end of the sentence is an obvious jab about Bruce’s lack of communication skills and, really, he just  _ cannot  _ let that stand.

“I would fucking  _ love  _ it,” he grits out, “if you would stop  _ teasing  _ and be more  _ pragmatic  _ -”

“I don’t think you’re using that word correctly,” Barry tells him. He probably isn’t; Bruce isn’t all that hung-up about the  _ semantics  _ at the moment though.

“ - just  _ touch me  _ already.”

Barry shrugs, as though it’s some great effort on their part. “If you  _ really  _ want me to.”

Bruce is about to say something very witty in response, he’s absolutely sure of it. It’s going to be something so witty, in fact, that Barry will end up completely speechless, and Bruce will  _ finally  _ be given the window he needs to flip their positions and -

And that’s Barry’s hand down his pants, pulling out his dick in such a fluid motion Bruce wonders if this really  _ is  _ his first time doing anything in the bedroom, and when Barry runs his fingers up the shaft, nails and all, Bruce  _ does  _ let out a shout, arching off the bed so suddenly he’s surprised he didn’t buck Barry  _ off. _

“You can’t just -”

Barry’s hand twists, experimentally, sending Bruce’s mind into a frenzy of different thoughts.  _ Holy shit that feels good, _ being the most frequent, quickly followed by images of Barry and Selina having him at once, together, turning him inside out with their hands.

It will never happen, of course, solely because Barry has an  _ exclusive  _ interest in men, but he can still fantasize. They’re both so good with their hands. Does he have a thing for that now? Maybe. Possibly. That’s between him and - late nights in his office, when no-one is around and he’s feeling particularly daring with himself.

Barry’s hand on his dick is hotter than it probably should be, in the literal sense this time. It’s not unpleasant, and the slide of it causes shivers to run up his spine. They apply different pressures, gauging Bruce’s reaction each time, cataloguing each one the same way they catalogue chemicals. 

A hard squeeze at the base, dragging up, getting lighter, until Barry’s fingers are nothing more than a feathery touch at the head, reversing the motion as they go back down again. 

It’s  _ maddening. _

“Your - your mouth,” Bruce manages to say around his own panting. Barry looks up through their lashes, lips a smile of sinful innocence. They’re going to make him say the whole goddamn thing, aren’t they? Of course they are. He can see it in Barry’s eyes, in the way they’re tilting their head just so, hand leaving his cock to tuck hair behind their ear instead.

The absence leaves him feeling cold, shuddering now that he’s noticing how exposed he is to the temperature of the room. His cock twitches with every exhale from Barry’s mouth, from every languid stroke they make with their fingers, nothing more than a simple observation of his preferences.

“Please,” he gasps, “please just - use your mouth I - I need to  _ feel  _ you so - so  _ please. _ ”

It feels strange, using this tone with someone who isn’t Selina. Stranger still, that he’s already so close to begging for it. He reasons that it’s just pent up energy; he’s been hard for a good third of the night, after all, which is, again, all Barry’s fault to begin with. And Selina’s. Technically.

“See?” Barry teases. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Bruce wants to say something, but his mind is foggy, and Barry is shifting his legs apart, fitting so neatly between them, stretching out for a better angle. Bruce helps, as best he can, sitting up to prop himself against the pillows, strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

Barry kisses the side of his length, gently, running their tongue from base to tip, the flash of teeth both threatening and exciting at the same time. They take him in their mouth with ease - not a single  _ gag  _ or choking sound, fucking  _ Christ _ , how is that fair? - and Bruce thumps back against the headboard, cursing, one hand flying to tangle itself in Barry’s hair, shaking so much there’s hardly any  _ grip  _ to it.

He bucks up for more. This time, Barry lets him, setting a faster, rougher pace, teeth scraping each time they pull backwards, tongue flat so Bruce can hit the back of their throat.

The sight is what does him in - he challenges anyone to say they wouldn’t be the same - spilling into Barry’s mouth, slumping down right after, blinking the haze from his eyes. Barry pulls back, sitting up, a hand over their mouth as they swallow. Jesus  _ fuck  _ where did they learn to do that. 

They don’t look as dishevelled as Bruce feels, which is fine, if not a little disappointing. They’re snapping a photo, and that raises some concerns that Bruce is too fucking tired to think about, quite frankly. Tired, yet sated. 

He can’t really go back to the party like this. He hopes Alfred can forgive him for that.

Barry just - looks so freaking lovely tonight. Bruce reaches out for them, cupping their face, brushing a thumb over their cheek. Barry leans into it, humming, eyes drifting shut. 

“We need to clean up,” Bruce murmurs, trying not to fall asleep right here. Barry doesn’t have any spare clothes. That’s - easily solvable, actually. “You can -” he gestures to his drawers, mind blanking on the right words - “borrow the - the things.”

Barry snorts, sliding under the covers, curling into Bruce’s side. “Later.” They yawn. “Go to sleep. You look tired.”

“Mm.”

Barry’s only rule had been, at the time, an understandable, “no kissing,” because this was a one-time thing, probably, no feelings attached. Bruce...really wants to do that, though. Kiss them. 

It’s best not to dwell on  _ why  _ that is. He focuses on making himself a little more presentable, changing his clothes, at least, to something more comfortable. Barry’s heels were already on the floor, so Bruce had no excuse to touch his ankles or his shins. He does it anyway, lets himself be a little more selfish.

The bed is warmer, with Barry’s body heat. Bruce curls up around them, tucking Barry under his chin, and lets himself fall asleep.

It’s enough. It has to be.


End file.
